Sullivans Island-Lowcountry 1 (11 page)

“We bought it six months after he went into a practice with

three friends of his. That was soon after we moved back to

Charleston. Michelle?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to sound desperate, but I need a separation

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agreement that’s going to guarantee support for me and for our

daughter starting right away or as soon as possible. I’m running

out of cash and I don’t want to have to borrow money. I can’t go

on like this, begging him for the mortgage, begging him for

Beth’s tuition.Why is he doing this to us?”

The tears started to roll down my cheeks now and she

handed me a Kleenex.

“This kind of thing happens more often than you’d believe.

We’ll get this all straightened out. Remember, time heals. It

really does. I can bring him to his senses.”

“Thank you. I really mean it.”

“I know you do.” She patted my arm.“Okay, now, tell me the

famous toothbrush story in slow motion. I just love that one.”

I t to o k m e three days to get the outline of a budget done.

Should I charge Tom for all the over-the-counter sleeping pills I

took because he robbed me of decent rest at night? Should I pad

it to cover my daily dose of amusing Chardonnay that I sipped

while watching the eleven o’clock news? I began keeping a

diary, which was actually rather cleansing. I had done it for years

as a child. It kept me sane then and it couldn’t hurt now.

I sent the budget to the intrepid Ms. Stoney, who padded it

by fifteen percent, saying I had neglected things like vacations,

unexpected illnesses, unpaid leave from work and so on. She

notified Tom that I had retained her and he was not pleased.

“If you think I’m paying the bill for Michelle Stoney, that

man-hating, viper-tongued lesbian bitch from hell, y’all can

both kiss my sweet ass,” he screamed at me from his car phone.

“What’s that? Tom, dear, there’s so much static I can’t ’eah

you,” I lied.“Did you say Michelle can kiss your ass? I’ll tell her

you said so. Better yet, tell her yourself.”

“You’re not getting one cent from me now, Susan! This

really pisses me off !”

“I’m shaking in my shoes. You listen to me, and ’eah me

good. I don’t give two shits if you’re pissed off.You’re going to

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

63

pay Stoney’s bill and you’re going to sign a fair separation agree-

ment with me. And quick, too. If you don’t, my two huge broth-

ers would be happy to discuss it with you. That’s a real option.

And another thing, don’t you ever speak to me this way again. It’s

harassment, cupcake, and the viper wouldn’t like it.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Nope. I’m assuring you.”

I slammed the phone down. It felt great.

I h a d n ’ t s e e n Maggie in several weeks. The following Sunday, I

got up early and met her at Mass on the Island. I had some old

newspaper articles I wanted to show her. After church, we said

hello to all the old ladies from the Altar Society, our mother’s sur-

viving friends, and decided to go over the bridge to Billy’s Back

Home Restaurant for brunch. Billy’s is just a place on the side of

the road.There’s always a line and the food’s worth the wait. Its

interiors are considerably enhanced by blinking Christmas lights,

fishing pictures and a huge sled suspended from the ceiling, so

they leave the decorations up all year. It’s sort of festive.

Brunch is a relative term here because they’re not serving up

mimosas and croissants at Billy’s. No, no. In the Lowcountry it’s

got gravy on it—the biscuits, the ham, the grits—it all swims in a

puddle of “heart attack on a plate.” When you eat this stuff, it

slides down like wet cement and stays there for weeks, asking

directions to your arteries and hips. I planned to resist. After ten

minutes or so, we got a booth and menus.

“God, wouldn’t you love to have just one biscuit?” Maggie

licked her lips at the passing trays laden with biscuits as big as

your head, juicy sausages and crisp waffles covered in whipped

cream from a can.

“Not me, baby,” I replied. “I’ll have a dry salad and a Diet

Pepsi with lemon, please,” I said to the waitress.

The waitress, wearing a hairnet and, on her stretched-

to-capacity T-shirt, a sticker that read dolores on it, sucked her

teeth at me.

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“How ’bout you, honey?” she said to Maggie.

“I’ll have one poached egg in a cup, one piece of bacon,

well done, and dry whole wheat toast, with black coffee.”

“You want grits with that?”

“No, thanks.”

“Home fries?”

“No, thanks.”

“You girls must be starving. I’ll bring it out right away.”

“We’re here for the ambience,” I replied. “Forgive us.We’re

anorexic, it runs in the family.”

Maggie giggled. Big Dolores stared at us and turned on the

heel of her running shoe.We watched her bulbous rear waddle

over to the kitchen ledge, where she attached our order to a

clothespin.

“What’s with her?” Maggie asked. “Doesn’t she know salad

dressing is fifty percent of a girl’s caloric intake? I read that in a

magazine.”

“Dolores is intimidated ’cause we’re so good-looking. Let’s

overtip her and really aggravate her.”

“Well, I see you’re feeling like your sassy old self again. God

knows, you’re as thin as I’ve seen you in years! How’s it going?”

I lit a cigarette and exhaled away from her as she began to

fan my smoke.

“Have I told you lately how brilliant you are?”

“No, tell me.” Maggie smiled, and sat up to receive a com-

pliment.

Dolores put my Pepsi on the table with a clunk and poured

Maggie’s coffee. She slid my salad across the table and Maggie’s

platter as well.

“I forgot your lemon. I’ll be right back.”

“I started walking to and from work, and seven more

pounds fell off in the last three weeks. I didn’t even diet. Even

my shoes are loose.You are a genius! And you were right about

walking being good for my brain. I feel like a new woman!

Besides, who could eat in this heat anyway?”

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

65

“See? I knew it!” She was smug but nicely so.

“I owe it all to you. God, this must be the hottest summer in

a million years.” I took a long drink and reached in my purse for

the manila envelope of newspaper clippings from 1963. “ ’Eah,

look at this.”

“What’s this? Old newspaper articles? Does this have to do

with Daddy?” I could see that she didn’t have the same enthusi-

asm for my research that I did, but she thumbed through them

politely. “What’s this one about the Klan got to do with any-

thing?”

She referred to an old article about an African-American

church burning near Georgetown, about forty miles from Sulli-

van’s Island. Huge crosses had been burned in the yard the night

before the church completely burned to the ground. The Ku

Klux Klan was suspected of the crime but they had no suspects.

No surprise there.

“Well, I’m not sure, but I decided to see how much stuff I

could dig up. Maggie, we were so young then. I just want to know

as much as possible about how it was and what really happened.”

“What’s it going to prove?”

“Probably nothing, but certainly there was more violence

going on than I remember.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s so.” Her interest had shifted because

the next thing she said was,“You need to come over with Beth

and spend the night. I feel like I haven’t seen you in an age, girl.”

“You’re right. Maybe next weekend.” I folded the copies

and put them away. It wasn’t that Maggie didn’t care; she didn’t

have the same desire to know as I did. “Beth starts school on

Wednesday, freshman orientation. God, I can’t believe she’s

going to high school!”

“Merciful mother, where does the time go? High school!

What’s happening with Mr.Tom?” she said, changing the subject

again.

“Well, let’s see. Last week, I saw him cruising King Street in

a new convertible Mustang with Miss Karen in a ponytail and

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halter-top. They were wearing matching Ray-Bans. Isn’t that

adorable? I’m so happy for them.”

“If Grant ever did this to me and the boys I’d kill him. Get a

lawyer yet?”

“Nope, I got
the
lawyer. Michelle Stoney.”

“Michelle Stoney?” Maggie whispered. “Michelle Stoney?

Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Even I know who she is! Oh, my God!

I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

“I wanted to see your face.” I picked at a radish. “Close ya

jaw, girl, or you gone be catching flies.”

“This is gonna be like squashing an ant with an anvil! Wait

till Tom finds out!”

“Tom found out.”

“How’d he take it?”

“Not well.” I couldn’t help laughing.“He little party be over

now. She gone clean he clock.”

“Men stink.”

“Listen, I’ve been saying that for years, except that we love

the smell. This whole thing is incredible. He’s been driving me

crazy.This is typical Tom: He says he’s coming for Beth on Fri-

day at four, he calls at three to say he’s held up and he’ll call

later. He calls back at six, I can hear he’s in a bar, and he lies, say-

ing he’s hung up with a client, can he pick her up in the morn-

ing. I say,‘Sure, sure,’ and take Beth to a movie or something.

“The next morning he doesn’t call, so I have to call him.

There’s no answer at his place because he’s sleeping at the slut’s

apartment. I leave a message on voice mail and he picks it up

around noon.Then, he calls to say he’s taking Karen to do some

errands and can he pick Beth up afterwards. I say, ‘Sure,’ and he

arrives at five with the slut and a car full of packages from every

clothing store in the mall.All stuff he’s bought her, I’m sure. But

just let me ask him for the money for the mortgage or some-

thing like heart surgery, he goes into this routine how he’s not a

rich man and what do I think and blah, blah, blah. But Michelle

is gonna take care of all that, thank God. And, needless to say,

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67

these little psychodramas aren’t doing much for Beth’s stability

or her relationship with him. ’Eah?”

“Do you need to borrow some money? I have my own

stash, you know.”

“No, thanks, I’m fine.”

“What can I do to help?”

“There’s nothing to help. Everything’s actually going to be

fine. At least, I feel like it is. But thanks, you’re the best sister in

the world.”

The late afternoon sun was shining the next day as I walked

home from work down King Street toward my home. Maggie

called this “power walking” or something like that and she had

no idea how on the money she was.The myriad benefits of this

daily routine were priceless. First and foremost, I was looking

not half-bad. I could wear everything in my size-ten closet, even

though they were so out of style that they looked like costumes.

They fit. I recycled what seemed usable and dumped the rest

into the trash. And I felt so good that I had even regained my

sense of humor, especially when I’d think about Big Tom and

Michelle in the ring. Ha!

Second, I walked past shop windows, seeing my reflection,

which reminded me to correct my posture. The displays

tempted me with new things to save my money for. Shoot, I

should tell Michelle to demand a clothing allowance for me, I

thought. If I got married again, Tom wouldn’t have to pay

alimony! It made perfect sense to me.

Third, I had the time to shake off work and prepare to meet

Beth. Now, this was a formidable challenge, but for the first time

in months, I was up to the task. Beth, Beth, Beth. Barely fourteen

years old and she wore her smorgasbord of teenage issues like a

badge of honor. Beth the Contrarian. Beth the Contentious.

Hormones.There seemed to be time for hormones in every-

one else’s life except my own.When Beth wasn’t trying to smoke

something or drink something, she was trying to pierce some-

thing. Just this morning she took another six months off my life.

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“Mom! Why are you always treating me like such a baby?

God, Mom, every person in my entire class has a third hole in

their ear! I mean, it’s totally infantile not to have a third hole!”

“Someday, you’ll thank me your ears don’t look like Swiss

cheese,” I replied with practiced calm.

“I hate living in this house!” she screamed, and slammed the

front door almost off its hinges as she left for school.

When possible, I tried to ignore her hysterics because I

didn’t have the strength to fight over everything.Then too, it was

time for her to test her own judgment and make some mistakes.

I couldn’t be in an adversarial position with her all the time if I

expected her to come to me and tell me her troubles. I thanked

God I had a sister like Maggie.When Beth was possessed by the